Fears and Failings
by starry19
Summary: Post 5x11 - "They were about to tread into some very dangerous territory, and though he knew it would do little good, it would make him feel better if she was within arm's reach." Jane/Lisbon


**AN: **This is just a quick little story. I have a lot more to say, but I'm saving it for next week. Hopefully, I won't be disappointed and I'll be able to use it! Everyone cross your fingers!

For Kiry, who keeps creating these horrific, heartbreaking, feels-inducing gif sets. AND who made the "arts and crafts" gif of Jane from "The Redshirt." I owed you a story, so here it is!

**Fears and Failings**

To say that he was getting distinctly worried about Lisbon would be an understatement.

He hadn't been kidding when he'd told her to be careful. Like he'd said to her, months ago, Volker was a formidable enemy. He was cunning, subtle, conniving.

The exact opposite of Lisbon, who preferred to go in through someone's front door, guns blazing in a flurry of righteous anger and justice.

But that wasn't going to work here - Volker wasn't the same class of petty murderer that they usually got. She was going to need to adjust her tactics.

He understood her almost fanatical need to keep him out of this. Volker was hers, just like Red John was _his_.

From time to time, they could involve the team, but it was an unwritten rule - the other would stay out of the way unless specifically asked to intervene.

But he'd never appreciated how much effort it would take to honor that silent promise.

When Grace had told him that Volker had actually had the audacity to show up in the office, he'd taken a moment to be horrified. The man was trying to intimidate Lisbon, to threaten her.

Although that annoyed him, the part that was really bothersome was that Volker's words were going to have a rather different effect on Lisbon - they were going to propel her forward, perhaps incautiously. And she absolutely couldn't allow her feelings to cloud her judgement here.

If something happened to her...that would be unimaginable.

Over the years, he had spent more than a little time considering the idea of Red John setting his sights on Lisbon. If he lost her that way, he wasn't sure he would be able to avenge her death. It would all be over for him then - there was only so much a man could lose to a faceless enemy, after all, and still keep breathing.

He'd never really been scared that he could lose her for any other cause. However, the more he thought, the more he was sure that if Tommy Volker did her any sort of harm, the man would live just long enough to bitterly regret it. There was a wide swath of darkness in his soul, and he knew he wouldn't hesitate if the situation came to pass.

So he was grateful when Lisbon finally asked for his help. He'd offered it to her before, but she hadn't been ready to accept it.

But three more deaths on her conscience was the tipping point.

He'd watched at the scene as she'd tied to hold onto her composure. His immediate instinct was to pull her close, tell her it would be alright.

However, it was neither the time nor the place. Comfort now would mean tears, and she wouldn't forgive him for causing her to lose it in front of her fellow officers and the team.

The most he could do, at least in that instant, was stand close.

So he did, all the while remembering to be thankful that it wasn't Lisbon lying dead on the ground.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that if Volker wanted her dead, he could make her that way without much of an effort.

The thought made his blood run cold.

As Lisbon rattled off what she knew about the case to the local police, he noticed her voice caught once. To anyone other than him, it would have been almost imperceptible.

But she was close her breaking point.

Quickly, he manufactured an excuse to pull her away.

"Hey, Lisbon, come here for a second. I want you to look at something." As far as believability went, it was a poor effort, but it hardly mattered. Besides, his brain was working rapidly on about six other problems - pacifying local law enforcement wasn't high on his list of priorities.

Lisbon looked surprise and mildly suspicious, but she followed him anyway. He stopped on the other side of a dumpster that partially hid them from the rest of the police on the scene.

"Look forward," he murmured, "and gesture off to the distance."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and he went on.

"Act like you're telling me something important, some theory."

"Jane, what the hell are you doing?" she asked.

He almost smiled. "Giving you a few minutes to compose yourself again," he told her.

There was a brief moment when she met his eyes, and he could see that she was surprised he'd caught on. But then she sighed and followed his instructions, pointing at some invisible thing off to the far right.

A muscle twitched in her jaw again, and she blinked rapidly.

Lightly, very lightly, he touched her free hand.

Almost instantly, her fingers curled tightly around his.

"Take a deep breath," he instructed. "Now let it out. Again."

She did as he said, and he brushed his thumb over her knuckles.

"We'll catch him," he promised. And they would. He had no doubt of it. It would take some work, and it would very likely be dangerous, but he was quietly confident that at the end of it, Volker was either going to be put in jail or in the ground.

"I know," she responded. "I just wonder how many more people are going to have to die for that to happen." Her eyes drifted back to him, and he knew that she was worried about him, about the team.

He squeezed her hand. "It'll be alright," he promised.

She knew very well that he had no solid grounds on which to base his claim, but she let it go, taking another deep breath.

Slowly, she released his hand. "We should get back to the office," she said, pulling her professionalism around her like a cloak. She had given into approximately three minutes of being human, but now it was time to be the avenging angel of justice again. Breakdowns weren't something she could condone.

"Lead the way," he said, gesturing for her to go first.

He made a note to keep close to her side. Although he knew she wouldn't touch him again, he wanted to be near enough that she _could_, if she wanted to. There was more than a little comfort in that, he knew.

As he looked once more at the dead bodies on the dirty ground, he supposed the opposite was true as well - he wanted to be near enough that _he _could touch her, too.

They were about to tread into some very dangerous territory, and though he knew it would do little good, it would make him feel better if she was within arm's reach.

And so he followed in her wake, hoping that their best efforts would be enough.

They would have to be.


End file.
